


Take Out

by 4TAE



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, and levi takes none of that shit, eren is a lil shit, eren makes good milkshakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4TAE/pseuds/4TAE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren's milkshakes bring all the boys to his yard.</p><p>  <i>(although he wasn't expecting his college professor) </i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. provoked

**Author's Note:**

> written for ereri week. Probably will be three-four chapters long.

 

Eren downright despised his French class. There were multiple reasons why, ranging from how Eren did not have the capacity to learn new languages, to his professor who never seemed to wake up from the right side of the bed, and of course, it was mostly because that Eren could never find a sense of peace during the lecture. He had long given up any hope of getting an A in this class, and at this point, even a passing grade of C sounded laughable. Due to his lack of motivation, Eren usually nabbed the seats at the very back of the lecture hall, where one might expect that it was relatively easy to sleep during the lecture or draw odd doodles at the edge of his papers.

He closed his eyes, blocking out the incomprehensible sermon of complicated French that his professor was delivering. Perhaps it would have been easy to drift off into his own sea of thoughts, but…

 

“Psst. Yeager. Hey.”

 

… but it was exactly this. Eren crossed his arms and used them as a pillow for his head, trying his best to ignore the annoying whispers and constant prodding from behind him. When the whispering didn’t stop, Eren jerked back in his seat, swinging his elbow around with him and jabbing Jean’s knee right at the his bony joint. 

Satisfied by the pained hiss that escaped from Jean, Eren turned back around and pretended to pay attention to the lecture, knowing that Jean hated to be ignored.

 

“Fuck, Yeager, are you trying to put me into a wheelchair?”

 

Eren snorted. _If only_. “What, can’t handle a bit of pain from a little nudge in the knee?”

 

Jean’s eyes flashed angrily at Eren’s, much to Eren’s smugness. He relished the fact that he had managed to poke at Jean’s pride, because the horseface simply had too much of it. Eren knew he really shouldn’t be pushing this further, but Jean _did_ provoke him in the first place, so Eren supposed it was justified one way or another.

 

“Eren Yeager, you are a fucking asshole.”

 

“Glad to know. Now kindly fuck off, Jean,” Eren venomously hissed back, turning his head so that he was staring straight at the wall opposite of the horseface.

 

“What, no snotty comebacks this time?”

 

“Fuck. Off,” Eren demanded with a tone of finality. “What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” 

 

“You’re the one who made it a point to argue with me all the time, you asshole-“ Jean suddenly broke off his heated accusation, and looked sideways, before directing at Eren the most infuriating expression that he had ever seen- the odd half-smile, half-sneer that resembled a drunk horse. Jean opened his mouth once again-

 

“Are you quite done yet?”

 

Eren immediately, and loudly shot back, “No I’m not -- ugh, just do me a favor and _eat dicks_ , _will you_?!”

 

But Jean didn’t reply, and Eren realized too late that the lecture hall had gone deathly silent, that the icy tone of voice did not belong to Jean, and certainly realized too late that that there was a presence behind him.

 

“Mister… _Yeager,_ I presume…” Professor Levi leveled Eren’s fury with his own stony glare. He looked down at Eren, unflinching in his penetrating gaze. “Would you care to repeat what you just said?”

 

Eren wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

 

* * *

  

Eren carelessly flung his bag onto the floor, plopping down directly next to it with a defeated sigh.

 

“Long day, Eren? You look beat.”

 

Eren heaved another sigh and buried his face into his palms, peeking through his fingers to see the worried face of his friend. He had fled from the lecture hall as soon as the lecture was over so the professor didn’t have the chance to ask him to stay after class. His heart wasn’t ready for that kind of torture- he had heard all sorts of scary stories about his French Professor. “You have no idea,” he groaned. He quickly muttered, “Jean provoked me, and I ended up in deep shit with Professor Levi- I told him to eat dicks! I’m gonna kill Jean- as soon as I see him again-“

 

“Woah, Eren, slow down!” Armin cut in. “I didn’t catch any of that. Why exactly do you want to kill Jean?”

 

“Because.” Eren slammed his fist down on the ground in despair. “He provoked me. And I ended up telling Professor Levi to stuff his mouth with dicks, Armin, and that’s the last thing I need. A professor who hates my guts, who also teaches the class I’m currently _flunking_ \- oh god.”

 

“Well-“

 

“And on top of that- Professor Levi assigned us a thirty page essay! _Thirty pages_! One-inch margins, no double spacing, size twelve font- thirty pages- this professor’s got a stick up his ass, I swear! And it’s due by next week, oh lord… this is definitely all my fault- no, it’s _all that bastard Jean’s fault_!” Eren bobbed back and forth in despair. “Armin, how will I survive?!”

 

The blonde sympathetically patted Eren’s shoulder whilst wrestling on a cozy sweater and carefully locking his employee locker shut. “You’ll do fine, Eren. Maybe you should calm down a little?”

 

“Calm down?! Armin! You know that I fucking suck at French! Hell, I don’t even know why I signed up for this class- it’s been half a year and all I know is _bonjour_ , _escargot_ , and _merci_!”

 

“And _croissant_ , you know that too.”

 

“Oh yeah, and _croissant_ \- Armin! You’re not helping!” Eren frantically shook his head, erratically moving his hands in midair before slapping them down on the floor with grim determination. “Fuck this shitty class. You know what? I’ll write a thirty page essay on why this damned language sucks, and be done with it.”

 

“Eren…” The blond’s head popped out of the sweater, and he glanced at the hysterical brunette. “I’ll help you with the essay this weekend. For now, why don’t you just get dressed and crank up the milkshake machine? The counter needs some help as well.”

 

Eren paused, slowly looking up at Armin as if he had just saved the world from destruction with some otherworldly powers. In a voice filled with wonder, he gasped, “Armin, you’re my hero- _je t’aime, mon_ _chéri_! What would I do without you?”

 

Armin blinked, then quickly frowned. “So you _do_ know more than four words in French! You better have not tricked me.”

 

“Never!” Eren firmly declared, placing a fist over his chest with resolution, almost in a proud manner. “I would never lie about my horrible capacity to learn new languages!”

 

He wasn’t lying at all. Eren grimaced, remembering how his mother had pestered him repeatedly for a month, complaining about his utter lack of knowledge of the world and common sense. And for some reason, Carla Yeager’s solution was most simple- take a new language. When she brought it up, Eren had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting- exactly how would taking a new language widen his horizons and open up more potential?

 

If anything, it killed his potential, seeing he was probably going to flunk this class.

 

A part of Eren wanted to fail, to show his mother that she was wrong; yet, another part, the more studious, honest part of Eren wanted him to do his best. Honestly, he tried his best in class in the beginning, but eventually he couldn’t shoulder the complications of a foreign language anymore- and not to mention, French sounded girly. His mother could at least allow him to take German- it sounded angry and fierce, just how he liked it- but no, according to Carla, French was a language that just opened up doors of opportunity.

 

Those ‘doors of opportunity’ were cemented shut now. He had a one-way ticket to failing French- in the form of badmouthing his professor. Professor Levi was known to be rigorous and scarily strict, and because of Jerky Jean and his loud mouth, Eren just knew he wouldn’t be able to survive the rest of the semester.

 

Yeah, he was totally going to fail this class.

 

Eren’s shoulders slumped. “Really, thank you so much, Armin. I mean it.”

 

His friend gently smiled and prodded Eren’s shoulder with his finger. “No problem. Eren. Mope later, okay? Your shift starts in fifteen minutes. Maybe we can have dinner after your shift, and maybe discuss your essay? And don’t kill Jean, I don’t think that would end well for you.”

 

Eren stuck out his lower lip in a firm glower, but reluctantly agreed. “That’s fine. My shift ends at seven. But mark my words, Armin, Jean won’t go unscathed.”

 

“Right,” Armin laughed weakly. “I’m going to pick up some books I put on hold at the library, but I’ll meet you outside at seven.”

 

“Milkshake machine, right?” Eren began to strip, carelessly throwing his casual clothes into his employee locker. He began to poke around at the contents of his locker, looking for his employee uniform. It was most likely stuck at the bottom of the messy pile of clothes and books that he never bothered to clean out.

 

“Yeah, isn’t that your area of expertise? The manager hired you just for your milkshakes,” Armin jokingly chuckled.

 

Eren rolled his eyes. When he had applied for a part-time job here, he was given the test of working in the kitchen as well as the counter; while he finished his test with adequate results, the manager seemed to be pleased with the quality of his milkshakes. Of all things- the milkshakes! Eren shook his head, still baffled at how his milkshakes could possibly be different when all he did was add ingredients and crank up the machine. 

However, the manager strongly insisted that his milkshakes were utterly delicious, and had a different quality to them that the other employees couldn’t produce. Eren tasted his own milkshakes, and to be honest, they tasted completely normal- just like every other fast food or diner milkshake. There was nothing mouthwatering or special about it, but evidently the manager disagreed.

 

“I think Hanji’s just off her rockers,” Eren blanched at the memory. He didn’t know whether he should be pleased that he was hired, or be unhappy that he was hired ‘just for his milkshakes’. He would’ve preferred to be hired for having good customer service or excellent accounting skills, but… not milkshakes. “Have you even tasted them? They taste completely normal!”

 

“Well, remember when Hanji brought in the store sales statistics last week? The percentage of customer satisfaction has shot up by eight percent, and the amount of customers asking for milkshakes has risen by fifty percent! Fifty! Eren, you are obviously clueless about it, but there’s definitely something unique about your milkshakes.”

 _  
_ “Maybe it’s just dumb luck,” Eren savagely pulled on his uniform shirt. Armin handed him his apron, which Eren tossed on and secured with a messy knot at his back.

 

“If you say so, Eren,” Armin shrugged, letting the topic slide. “So seven, at the back?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Eren grunted, brushing past his friend to head for the storefront. “I have my shift with Jean today, right?” Eren clenched his jaws together, trying to refrain himself from punching a hole in the wall.

All he wanted was to smack the smug smile off of Jean’s face, perhaps add in a few blows to his man bits, and then toss in some malicious taunts. Yes, Eren firmly decided, he would do exactly that.

 

“Ah- no, I think it’s Marco today, because Jean, well-“

 

Eren paused before opening the door. He had to admit he felt somewhat relieved, as he very much-preferred working with the genial Marco Bodt (even if Jean had sneakily convinced Marco into filling in for him- what kind of boyfriend did that, for heavens sakes?!) rather than- as Eren had nicknamed him- _Jerky Jean_. Or _horseface_. But then again… this meant he didn’t have the chance to pummel Jean’s horsey face right into the ground.  _Coward_ , Eren thought. Jean probably ran away, hoping that Eren’s temper would cool.

Eren snarled. He couldn't let the issue just rest; he would corner Jean as soon as he spotted the horseface’s ugly face. “He skipped, didn’t he? Then he convinced Marco to take his shift? Typical. I’m still going to have my revenge on him though, no matter what.”

 

“Jean’s not as bad as you think, Eren-“

 

Eren scowled and swore loudly, effectively cutting off his friend. “Not as bad as I think, _my arse_. Armin, I can literally think of a thousand reasons why Jean is as bad as I say he is- and yes, we _will_ be talking about this later, okay?” Ignoring all protests from Armin, he stalked out of the employee room and into the kitchen with hunched shoulders and a noticeable frown on his face.

 

Eren despondently plopped himself on the counter next to the milkshake machine, unenthusiastically starting it up and adding in simple ingredients and blending them in less than five minutes.

 

Jean was the source of all his misery in high school, and Eren had been furious to find out that not only was Jean in many of his college classes, but was also working at the same part-time job Eren had applied to. And now, they shared shifts, which didn’t help their terrible relationship at all. Between all the time spent working at the counter, Eren had discovered even _more_ reasons to dislike Jean.

 

It hadn’t been the fault or either of the two, but Eren preferred to think that it was Jean that started the whole ‘enemies’ fiasco. As Armin had once said, Eren and Jean had two completely different mindsets that didn’t get along- as simple as that. Eren grudgingly agreed with that, but he also thought that maybe if Jean wasn’t such a dunderhead, then maybe the two could get along better. And today- it was all that bastard Jean’s fault.

 

Marco appeared around the corner, blinking at the sight of Eren, whose glazed eyes were frozen on the milkshake machine while he seemed to be ferociously muttering something under his breath.

 

“Eren, are you feeling alright?” Marco worriedly asked, hurrying over and gently shaking Eren’s shoulders.

 

Shaken from his reverie, Eren furiously blinked, flustered. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine, I was just…” Eren paused to grind his teeth. _I was just thinking of a million ways to enact revenge against_ _Jerky Jean, your asshole of a boyfriend_. How did the kind Marco ever end up with Jerky Jean? Eren shuddered as his imagination procured an image of Jean holding roses and whispering sweet words to Marco. _Gross_. “ I’m just tired, that’s all.”

 

Marco formed an ‘o’ with his lips, his eyes warm with concern. “If you’re tired, maybe you should go back and rest? There’s not that many customers today, so I’m sure I can handle them all.”

 

“No, no! I’m fine, perfectly fine!” Eren hastily hopped down from the counter. He couldn’t possibly let Marco handle the store on his own, no matter how enticing the idea of going back to his dorms and resting was.

 

Marco still looked worried. “You sure?”

 

“Yeah, I’m totally fine! Don’t sweat it Marco, I’m just having one of those ‘off’ days.”

 

“Okay, well… if you feel any worse, tell me, okay? I’m going to the storage to help restock some things- do you think you can handle the cashier station by yourself?”

 

“Of course!” Eren tried to respond as enthusiastically as he could, but had clearly failed judging by the worried expression on Marco's face.

 

He adjusted his nametag, making sure that his name was clearly visible before settling by the cashier counter, a fake smile plastered on his face. His job at Maria’s was relatively easy; there were rarely any bad customers that ventured into this small fast food joint (actually, there were rarely any customers at all), so Eren spent most of his time at the cashier counter standing still, daydreaming.

 

If he wasn’t taking orders or prepping the food in the kitchen, it would be:

 

“Is the two-for-one deal still going on?”

 

 _I’m sorry sir, but it ended a few days ago_ , Eren would say. _Perhaps you would like to try our new barbeque chicken sandwiches instead? We have a fine deal for those this week._

“Is there a restroom I can use here?”

 

Eren would point at the direction of the restroom.

 

That was basically it. All in all, his job was as easy as it could get. While he preferred a job at the local video game store (where he could play games under the excuse of ‘testing’ them) or some other interesting place, Eren grudgingly agreed that this fast food joint was a good place to work; now, if the pay was just a bit higher, then maybe Eren could’ve declared his job Maria’s as the ideal part-time job.

 

When Eren graduated high school, his mother told him that she wanted him to be more independent, and thus, despite Eren’s pitiful pleading, cut off all financial support besides school fees. Now, Eren worked part-time for most of the time he didn’t have classes, but even so, he rarely made enough to survive.

 

Screw being independent- what Eren worried the most about was his survival. His meals consisted of instant noodles and tap water, and he was just _dying_ for a good meal. Working at a fast food joint, surrounded by the mouthwatering aroma of freshly flipped patties and sizzling fries only made his hunger worse- sometimes Eren would catch himself on the brink of drooling. Luckily, Hanji, his manager, was a kind soul (albeit eccentric) and let him take home leftovers on the days he worked.

 

It could be worse, he supposed. Eren contemplatively ran his fingers over his upper midsection. He wasn't stick skinny- there was lean muscle hidden deceptively behind his tanned skin from all the manual labor he had done for his job. 

 

“One Caesar salad and one small vanilla milkshake.”

 

Hoping that the customer didn't just see him groping himself, Eren quickly dropped his hands. “Sorry, the milkshakes are all out at the moment, but if you don’t mind waiting for a bit, sir-“ Eren looked back up, apology etched in his expression. It all fell away into a horrified look of shock when he found himself face to face with-

 

“P-Professor Levi?!” 

 

Eren stifled a gasp.

 

Well. Wasn't today just his day.

 

He swallowed nervously, fidgeting as he tried to calm the shivers of panic crawling up his spine. His throat suddenly went dry, and he felt very, very small under the watchful stare of his professor.

 

“Oh. It's you.” The older man stared down at Eren’s petrified form and gave a small noise of recognition. “The brat who told me to… eat dicks.”

 

Eren ducked his head, mortified, and he quietly mumbled in broken tones, “It was an accident, I swear, sir! It won’t happen ever again, I’m so, so sorry, it wasn’t directed to you, I was just trying to tell Jean-”

 

“You were trying to tell Kirchstein to ‘stuff his mouth with dicks’,” Professor Levi cut him off. “And I suppose you saw the need to _yell_ in the middle of my lecture?”

 

Eren flushed and clenched his fists. “But Jean started it first, _sir_.”

 

His professor curled his lips in displeasure at the small smack of resentment Eren had added at the end of his statement. “Yeager, I don’t care who started it first, all I care about is the fact that you needed to scream at the top of your lungs and disrupt my lecture,” the man said offhandedly.

 

Eren visibly deflated. “Yes sir.”

 

“Was that sarcasm I heard?”

 

“N-no!” Eren gave a small yelp.

 

Levi looked him up and down, and Eren couldn't help but shudder at the relentless gaze of his professor. He bet that Professor Levi was planning a slow, painful death for him- no one, as in _no one_ , ever dared to cross paths with the French Professor. Eren had tried his best to stay invisible and vigilant during Professor Levi's lectures, even going as far as to avoiding everything within two meters of the man. 

 

Despite being nearly full-grown adults, all the students at his university were scared shitless of Professor Levi; there were a plentiful number of rumors about how some students had broken down into hysterics by just having a one-on-one conversation with him. There was no talk of Professor Levi at the school campus because of the fear that he would somehow hear ( even though the university was 230 acres large and Eren seriously doubted that the professor could be everywhere at once).

 

Nonetheless, no one uttered a single syllable about the French Professor. Off campus, however, was a different matter. Eren nervously licked his lips, remembering the petrifying rumors of Professor Levi that Sasha and Connie had harmoniously cried about whenever they got together for a friendly drink. Eren used to just laugh it off, but now, Eren sincerely believed the two. 

  

“My order.”

 

“Sorry?” Eren stupidly asked.

 

“My order,” Levi said pointedly, looking Eren as if he had five heads.

 

 “Oh! Um. Yes. Right. One small vanilla milkshake and a Caesar salad, coming right up,” Eren awkwardly muttered. “Let me get it for you right now, sir.”

 

Eren slowly turned and awkwardly shuffled to the kitchen, vaguely aware that he was under the scrutiny of his professor. As soon as he walked into to the kitchen and was sure that he couldn’t be seen, Eren collapsed into a wobbily heap, leaning on the metallic kitchen counter for support, frantically running his hands through his hair. In his mind, Eren began to chant a mantra of ‘ _fuck, fuck, fuck_ …’ with a touch of insanity.

 

He bit his lip in silent frustration. _Out of all the diners and restaurants in town, why this one?!_ Maria's was located in a rather inconspicuous corner of the town, and Eren couldn't wrap his mind around the extent of his bad luck. 

 

He knew he was going crazy when he began to carefully package the salad, making sure that every crouton was placed perfectly an inch apart and that the salad leaves were perfectly leveled. Eren had even taken the liberty of scraping off the unwanted foam on top of the milkshake, and finishing it by cleaning off any extra residue around the milkshake cup. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Eren would’ve been amazed at the masterpiece of fast food he was serving.

 

After tucking the food into a paper bag, which he later on transferred onto a tray (wiped clean five times over, then sprayed with anti-bacterial solution), Eren reluctantly trudged back to the counter, where his professor stood, as impeccable as ever. Levi had the same stiff expression, and when Eren was still a few steps away, he quickly searched his professor’s face for any signs of impatience or anger, but could only find impassiveness. Without saying anything, Eren pushed the tray across the counter, not daring to look up at his professor from this distance, lest he be burned by the professor’s fixed stare. 

 

“Cat got your tongue?” Levi asked, who appeared peacefully unaware of the boy’s inner turmoil. His black eyes stared unwaveringly at Eren’s verdant ones, which were constantly flicking back and forth between the floor and the wall.

 

“I- no- it’s just,” Eren stammered, searching for something to say. “Why… why are you...?” Eren winced as soon as he registered what he just said. He didn’t dare look up at his professor- the man probably thought he was mentally deficient, if not just utterly stupid.

 

Levi promptly tilted his head and gently placed his hands on top of Eren’s.

 

Eren flinched at the sudden skin contact. Professor Levi's hands were cold, and the proximity of their contrasting warmths sent a shock through his veins that bubbled down to an almost pleasurable tingle. The professor’s cold fingers pried the boy’s fingers loose and slid an unwrinkled five-dollar bill into the brunette’s shaking hands. His fingers briefly lingered over Eren's palm, dipping for a quick brush before it disappeared into Levi's pocket.

 

Still staring down at his hands ( _move, you idiot fingers!_ ) Eren was considerably shocked when he then heard the deep voice continue, “Yeager, you might want to empty any dicks in your mouth, as it seems that you are incapable of forming any coherent sentences.”

 

Shaking with embarrassment and feeling a horrible, burning shame that threatened to redden his cheeks, Eren snatched the money and hastily shoved it into the cash register, then dumped the change into the professor’s hands with supernatural speed, mumbling incoherent words of apology. Forcing himself to look directly at the sharp chin, elegant nose, and piercing eyes of his professor, he tried again, “Why are you here?”

 

Eren realized too late that it was a stupid question, and evidently his French professor thought so as well. Levi shot him a slight look of disbelief, as if wondering why Eren had even bothered to ask.

 

“Why, Yeager, I was getting myself some food,” Levi stated in an _obviously_  tone. He finally (finally!) lifted his steadfast stare from Eren, instead turning his attention to the paper bag, observing the salad within. His professor hummed in approval at the contents.

 

“I was expecting something worse, but I must say, this salad looks better than all the French assignments you ever turned in in my class. You might even get something higher than a C for this one, I suppose.”

 

Eren scowled at the underlying jab. He wanted to stomp, he wanted to scream, and he wanted to rage at him about how clearly none of this was his fault and it was all _Jean's_. Nevertheless, this was a job, and no matter how difficult he was finding it to keep his insults from colliding with his professionalism, he had to _suck it up_. He drew in a deep breath - one so big that it ached in his ribs - and exhaled as he smiled sunnily at his French professor. 

 

“Thank you for patronage, and enjoy your meal! We hope you come again…” _No, please don’t come again, I beg you._

Levi raised an eyebrow, probably detecting the leaking displeasure in Eren’s voice. Nonetheless, the professor calmly dropped a single penny into the tip jar, and then instead of taking the meal away, he stared at Eren with an unfathomable expression.

 

“Yeager, next Tuesday, I better see you sitting in the front row during my lecture. And you will stay after class that day as well- we need to have a _little talk_.”

 

And with a deep swish of his coat, he walked away. Eren stood there for what seemed like an eternity, vainly holding onto the table and onto the hope that what had just happened was all a dream. From what he heard, 'little talks' with Professor Levi never ended well. 

 

Terror-stricken from his professor's bone-chilling words, he slowly sunk down onto his knees, his face paling to a ghastly white. He was now thoroughly convinced that this was as bad as his life could get. Even his hunger had disappeared, warded off by dread that pooled in his stomach.

 

“Eren- Eren, are you alright?”

 

“Marco,” Eren breathed. “I think I’m doomed.”

 

 

 


	2. invoked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever and I apologize.

 

“Listen, Armin…”

 

“Yes, Eren, I’m listening,” Armin smiled thinly. “I have been listening for the last thirty minutes Eren, and you still haven’t made a single comprehensible statement besides _oh my god, fuck_ , and _shit_.”

 

“It’s just- ugh. Shit,” Eren took a huge swig of his orange juice. He slapped his face into his hands. “I screwed up, Armin. _I screwed up_. I just screwed up my _entire life_.”

 

Eren glumly swirled his straw inside his glass of orange juice. Nineteen years of living, and Eren had never felt more defeated than now. If only he had the power to turn back time… Eren sighed, unable to chase away the depressed thoughts that had amassed in his mind.

 

“Eren, I doubt that one bad encounter with a professor would necessarily condemn you to a doomed life,” Armin said good-naturedly. “It’s just one encounter. You’ve had plenty of teachers in your life, so how is one mishap with one professor going to, in your words, _screw up your entire life?_ ”

 

“But Armin! He said we would have a little talk, and you _know_ what Connie and Sasha said about Professor Levi’s little talks! Apparently, his little talks are equivalent to time in a torture chamber!”

 

“Connie and Sasha have always had a tendency to exaggerate,” Armin quickly said.

 

“There has to be at least _some_ semblance of truth in their words, though!” Eren raised his voice, a faraway, deranged look in his eyes. “I’m done for. It’s been nice knowing you Armin, but I believe next Tuesday is the last day we shall ever see each other.” His breathing grew uneven as he added hysterically, “Oh, and you know what? Help me tell Mom and Mikasa that I love them, but unfortunately, Eren Yeager has been sentenced to death by one French Professor and it’s _all Jean’s fault_!”

 

“Now you’re just being-”

 

“Ridiculous? I know I am!” Eren half-whimpered, half-laughed into his hands. Now that he had dwelled further on the topic, he was reminded of how his mother and Mikasa might possibly react when they heard that he had not only failed the class, but badmouthed the professor. He paled drastically.

 

“Listen, Armin…”

 

“Yes, Eren?” Armin placidly replied.

 

“I messed up,” Eren said, forcibly placing his head down on the table with a mighty ‘thwack’, to which Armin winced. “I messed up big time.”

 

“It _could_ be worse, you know,” Armin tried to reason. “This can’t possibly be worse than, let’s say… the time when Carla discovered gay pornographic magazines under your bed.”

 

Eren shut his eyes and moaned despairingly,” Don’t remind me about that…” He could remember that memory as clear as day; a cheerful, clueless Eren had returned home from school to see his mother calmly waiting for him at the door, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Being a bit slow in the head, Eren couldn’t see foresee anything that went wrong- until Carla slowly brought out his stash of hidden magazines from behind her back - and needless to say, he was in for a long, long night. He had never yelled more before in his life, and there was proof of that next morning when he woke up with a dry, sore throat that creaked and cracked every time he tried to talk.

 

Luckily, Eren’s parents had accepted his sexuality without much hassle, albeit Grisha was much more hesitant to accept that his son felt attracted to those of his own gender. Grisha had holed himself up in his own room for an entire three days, before emerging from the door with dark eyes and hollowed cheeks, proclaiming that Eren could ‘pursue his desires in his awakened sexuality’ (Eren had to bite the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from laughing at his father’s wording) as long as Eren was successful in his college aspirations and career aspects.

 

Carla accepted her son’s sexuality easily with no hesitation, but was furious that Eren had tried to hide it- and even more, was in possession of lecherous magazines that he _clearly_ should not have as an underage student.

 

She confiscated his magazines right after a lengthy, heated lecture- and Eren had renewed his stock of magazines within a few days of her taking them away. (Not that she’d ever know, Eren hoped.)

 

“Yeah, okay, maybe you have a point,” Eren finally conceded. “That was a bad, too. But why is it that I feel more embarrassed that I said ‘dicks’ in front of my professor than I did when my mom came out holding my gay mags?”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“I’m being totally serious here!” Eren scowled. “And if I remember correctly, I didn’t even flinch when my mom started waving pictures of dicks and butts and intercourse in front of me! But- but when it comes to Professor Levi-!”

 

Armin blinked, and hesitatingly said,” Maybe you just have a twisted sense of shame?”

 

 “Or I could just be really messed up,” Eren mumbled. “It’s just- ugh, I don’t know how to explain it! But seriously, what should I do?” he moaned, fisting his hair in despair.

 

“Well,” Armin contemplated. “I say just bear with it. It’ll be over before you know it- and it’s not like you’ll see him after his semester, right?”

 

“I guess you have a point,” Eren grumbled with a tone of reluctance. He cringed- he was already mentally categorizing the many (possibly gory) ways he would suffer at the mercy of Professor Levi at tomorrow’s lecture. There was no doubt the man would do his best to make Eren suffer.

 

He shuddered at the mere thought of it. After a moment’s pause, he slowly asked, “Still… d’you think the whole thing will blow over if I just pretend I’m sick tomorrow?”

 

In an instant, Armin’s lax position snapped into a rigid one, accompanied by a shocked expression and an admonishing tone, “ _Eren_! And no- rather, that would make it _worse_!”

 

“God, Armin, you sound like my mom- no, wait, you sound like _Mikasa_!” Eren groused, and playfully threw his scrunched-up paper napkin at the blonde in front of him. “Fine, fine, I’ll face it like a true man would.”

 

“Glad to hear,” Armin sighed in contentment. “I wish you luck. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you imagine it to be.”

 

Eren scowled. “Easy for _you_ to say.”

 

Once the meals were paid for and goodbyes made, Eren and Armin trudged off in different directions after one last round of a pity parade. Eren made his way back to the dormitories with limps shoulders and heavy feet that weighed his entire body down with each step, dreading what lay in store for him tomorrow.

 

He didn’t know how he managed to even fall asleep that night- his head was noisy and infected with depressing thoughts that constantly tormented him. But in the end, he slept, and was lulled into one of those dreams that mimicked reality (where everything was perfect and there was no Professor Levi and no horsefaces) and woke up feeling better than ever. However, as the saying goes, ‘all good things must come to an end’- so when he finally, truly woke up from his false sense of comfort, his entire being protested with the might of seven hellfires.

 

As such, Tuesday morning greeted Eren Yeager with plentiful sunshine and perfect weather. This only served to anger Eren further; apparently not even the _weather_ was on his side. If it had rained, then Eren cry and mourn along with the sky for his misery. But no, the weather was clearly mocking him, laughing at Eren’s sad fate. Needless to say, he was feeling as unmotivated and as glum as he could be. He shook his fist at the sky as he brushed his teeth, mentally screaming, _damn you!_

 

The day had started perfectly; he didn’t sleep past his alarm ( _a wonder_ ), he didn’t accidently trip on his way to the bathroom ( _amazing_ ), and his toast was an impeccable shade of gold ( _a fucking miracle_ ).

 

But why couldn’t his toast be this perfect on other days too? Eren pondered to himself morosely as he unhappily plucked the bread from the toaster, cringing when the pad of his pinky finger brushed the still-hot metal grill. Perhaps this was the world's way of trying to repay him for all the misery he would go through today. With that thought, the toast didn't seem as tempting as before.

 

He chewed his breakfast slowly. The bread felt stale in his mouth, and he could hardly relish the soft and squishy texture. His stomach was queasy and squeamish, and there was a hollow urge to hurl that only triggered his gag reflexes, but never resulted in any actual puking. The uncomfortable feeling overrode any desire to eat, and Eren sat at his table in a lonely silence, forlornly staring at his half-finished toast. He couldn’t come up with the means to savor his perfectly toasted toast.

 

He was in the midst of debating whether to trash the toast, which would be an incredible waste, or to eat it at the cost of puking his guts out, when the doorbell rang. Eren perked up and tossed the toast in the trashcan without a second thought. Hurrying over to the door, he quickly peeked into the peephole to sight a familiar red scarf and a head of thin, black hair.

 

“You’re early today,” Eren commented as he opened to door to let Mikasa in.

 

“No, you’re the one that’s early today,” Mikasa offhandedly commented as she walked in. Her imposing figure was enough to make Eren feel cramped in the between the plaster walls, although his hallway wasn't small at all and could easily fit more than two people . “Normally you’d still be dead asleep, but here I am, thinking that I don’t have to pour a bucket of ice water over your head again. Or do you still need me to do that for you?”

 

Eren cringed and furiously shook his head.

 

“Shame,” Mikasa said. “It’s become something of a habit now. My hands are just absolutely twitching to do just that.”

 

“Mikasa!” Eren whined. “Don’t tease me. I’m old enough to wake up by myself and walk to my classes by myself! I mean, I know you’re worried and all that, but come on, I’m _nineteen_ \- soon to be _twenty_. I’m practically a full-fledged adult.”

 

“Right,” Mikasa echoed and waved off his statement with an air of disinterest.

 

“Don’t just ignore what I said,” Eren groaned at his sister. Mikasa had been adopted by his family when he was a child, but Eren bet that they were probably even closer than most blood-related siblings were. He frowned- while he definitely preferred having a good sibling bond to a dysfunctional one, sometimes he couldn’t help but feel smothered by all the attention and worrying he received. Having Mikasa around was like having a second mother nearby, for goodness sakes- and he could hardly handle one, let alone two!

 

“Right,” Mikasa repeated, and craned her neck, looking around skeptically at Eren’s apartment. “I’m telling you, Eren, I really think-“

 

“-that I should come live in your apartment because it’s more spacious and everything else that I've heard a thousand times by now,” Eren finished for her. “My mom would have your guts if she found out. I appreciate the sentiment and all, but…”

 

“I won’t tell,” Mikasa said convincingly.

 

“It’s fine, Mikasa,” Eren rolled his eyes. “She wanted me to be independent and it’s given me some rough patches, but… it’s kinda like a challenge, you know? I can’t back down now, and I really can’t accept any help. That would be like admitting defeat to my _mom_ and I’m not ever going to do that-“

 

Mikasa interrupted, “You don’t seriously think that Carla would just toss you out completely helpless, would you? She expects you to come to me for help, and I’m more than willing to help.”

 

“I don’t care, my answer is still a no,” Eren said stubbornly, his eyebrows drawn into a deep frown.“ I don’t care. I’m doing fine, Mikasa, I’m not a friggin _baby_.” He scowled angrily. At the very beginning of his quest for independence, Mikasa had been supportive and encouraging. Someplace along the road, it appeared to Eren that his sister was just as doubtful towards his means to independence as his mother, and now, Eren wanted nothing more than to prove both his mother and sister wrong.

 

Mikasa squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at the scowling Eren. “Fine,” she bitterly said. “But remember, not everything has to be put into a live-or-die battle context, Eren. She’s not picking a fight with you, she’s trying to help you in her own way.”

 

Eren rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know, Mikasa."

 

"Whatever you say, Eren." Mikasa appeared almost weary of manner.  "So are you ready to go? You ate breakfast, right? And I mean a real breakfast, not a cup of instant noodles." 

 

Eren thought back to his perfect toast and felt queasy all over again. "Yeah, I did."

 

\-------

Sitting in the car and listening to the steely vibrations of the car and the soft, almost imperceptible crooning of a woman's voice through the speakers proved to be so relaxing that Eren could feel himself drifting off into the silky wisps of blank nothingness. His eyelids slipped down, his heartbeat calmed, and  each frown line grooved into his face melted into a blissful expression as his mind began to drone a random babble of calming words- _sky, food, rest..._

 

_Sunlight, breeze, brush..._

 

_Blankets, warmth, Levi -_

 

Wait.

 

Levi?

 

His sleep-induced euphoria crumbled into dust as he remembered in clarity the last words he had heard Levi say  _("we need to have a little talk..."),_ and he was suddenly quite awake. 

  

Somehow sensing his inner distress, Mikasa whipped her head around so quickly that her hair clung to the contours of her face.

 

“What’s wrong, Eren?” she asked. Eren nearly gulped at the steely glint in her pensive gaze. He looked at his hands sheepishly, debating whether to tell her or not. Chances were that she would march up to Professor Levi and Jean, and then proceed to threaten them in ways that would only cause Eren more trouble in the end.

 

“It’s nothing,” Eren sighed. “Forget about it, Mikasa.”

 

“Really,” Mikasa said, clearly unconvinced. “Spit it out.”

 

"I just remembered something bad," Eren grumbled. Mikasa frowned, unsatisfied by his vague answer.

 

"Which was what?"

 

“I just remembered that, uh- FUCKING CHRIST, MIKASA, LOOK AT THE ROAD, THE ROAD! YOU’LL GET US KILLED-“ Eren screamed at the top of his lungs when the car zoomed past a red stoplight at breakneck speed. 

 

Mikasa calmly corrected the speed, then turned to Eren with a nonchalant, "What were you saying?"

 

“Jesus Christ, I nearly died of a heart attack! What were you thinking, Mikasa?! Don’t stare at me when you’re driving! Fuck… you took your eyes off the road for at least _ten seconds_!”

 

“I wouldn’t have crashed,” Mikasa spat out with complete conviction paired with a careless shrug.

 

“Just because you’re absurdly talented both physically and mentally doesn’t mean you can’t get into a car crash!” Eren breathed harshly as he worked to pry his stiff fingers off his seatbelt. “Ugh, I feel sick…” He could already feel today’s breakfast starting to move back up his esophagus. He hurriedly clamped his hands over his nose and mouth and lunged across his seat to reach for the spare paper bags stashed at the back of the car.

 

“Are you okay?” Mikasa looked genuinely concerned as Eren heaved forward once again, his face turning into a pasty shade of gray.

 

“Well…  I’d probably be better if you hadn’t, _oh, I don’t know_ , nearly gotten us _killed_?”

 

Mikasa made a small noise of derision. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

 

Eren gulped and wiped his sweaty fore brow with the back of his hands, grimacing as the sour taste of vomit lingered on the surface of his tongue. He swore to tattle on Mikasa to his mother later. Hopefully Carla would take away Mikasa’ driving license. If not, he swore to God, he would find some way to steal it and burn it into ashes. Perhaps this was the sign telling him that instead of saving up for the new laptop that he had wanted, he should opt for buying a car for himself. It would probably save him from at least a million heart attacks and add on a substantial number of years to his lifespan.

 

When the car rolled into the parking lot, Eren’s hands were shaking in a tempo equivalent to an Irish jig, induced not only out of his fear of Professor Levi’s wrath, but out of exhaustion. His knees were so shaky from the car incident that he thought he might just collapse right there and then. He felt more sick and hungry than nervous, and all he could think about was the sheer panic that had thrummed through his veins along with the goopy mess that he coughed into the paper bag.

 

“Honestly, beyond the fact that I might smell like vomit after this, I’m fine now,” Eren shakily said, trying to forget the very fact that _no, nothing after this will be fine at all_.

 

Mikasa pursed her lips as she expertly maneuvered the car into a parking space. She still looked skeptical, though, so Eren stepped up the act by giving her an unsure smile. The last thing he needed was to add another platter of trouble to his already full table.

 

“Just… don’t mention anything related to class or Jean for today, okay?”

 

Mikasa was silent for a minute as the car came to a still. Brief consternation flitted over her face. “Okay…I understand.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yes, I do…” Mikasa said slowly. “So whatever is making you upset - it’s _Jean_ ’s fault huh?"

 

Mikasa’s fingers were beginning to turn a deathly white, her knuckles protruding sharply as her grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Don’t worry Eren, once I find Jean-“

 

“That’s not what I meant- I mean _yes_ , he was in the wrong, but that’s not exactly what I meant- oh, forget it,” Eren mumbled as he hurried to push off his seatbelt and unlock the door before Mikasa had him trapped inside the vehicle. He darted away but not without one last glance at the murderous aura that still lingered inside the car. Poor Jean- but he deserved whatever was coming to him, Eren reasoned. Although what Mikasa had planned for Jean may be… overkill. He shivered, feeling glad that he wasn’t the target of her wrath.

 

Perhaps he should warn Jean though?

 

Eren thought of the condescending sneer of on his horse-like face, and thought again- _Nah_.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I randomly thought of some sexual milkshake innuendos in the rated scenes??
> 
> can you just imagine
> 
> "Hey Eren, why don't you let me try that _other_ milkshake of yours?"
> 
> or
> 
> Levi gave a low, thoaty chuckle, and curled his lips teasingly against Eren's neck. _"How about we shake it up?"_
> 
> .....
> 
> I guess not, huh. You'd all kill me. I have some more really bad ones though LOL


End file.
